


One True Calling

by checkthemargins



Series: The One Where... [3]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-19 00:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Louis comes out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One True Calling

**Author's Note:**

> I am so insanely glad to see the end of this fic that I can't even describe. I got stuck so many times and it was only through the obscene patience of beta and amazing therapist dangerbears that this was finished. This is the end of my Tomlinshaw trilogy (though I'll likely still write timestamps in this verse as I've grown rather attached) and I want to thank all of you who have stuck with it! I hope that you enjoy this final bit!  
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own this band, or the people in it, or anything at all having to do with it. This is just for kicks. No harm intended.

**One True Calling**

"Nicholas," says Harry, in an entirely condescending way no matter how loving it sounds, "it is your _one year_ anniversary. You have to do something. I know you're not exactly like, the essence of romance—"

"The _essence of romance?_ Harry, have I ever told you that I love you?"

"Shut your _face_ , Nick, I'm serious. Louis will be so disappointed if you don't do something big."

"Truly, Madly, Deeply," Nick says, as though Harry didn't speak. "I might have to get rid of Lou and try and woo you, instead. 'Essence of romance'. I just. You leave me speechless, Harold. You really do."

"Nick," Harry whines.

Nick laughs. He'd wipe away imaginary tears of mirth for effect but Harry wouldn't be able to see it over the phone. "You should really have more faith in me."

"You should—oh my God—you should cover the bed in _rose petals_ , and wear a tux. And make magical love to him all gentle and tender, you know, with nice instrumental music in the background." Harry sighs dreamily. 

Nick nearly has an aneurysm trying to imagine Louis's reaction were he to do something like that. But it really isn't on to laugh at Harry, so he just clears his throat.

"I don't think that really defines our relationship, love."

"He'd love it! He's a hopeless romantic."

Which is fair enough, but where Harry is open about that sort of thing, Louis is absolutely not, and Nick's pretty sure the two of them define romance rather differently. 

"I've got this covered, Harry, I promise."

"Tell me what you're going to do so that I can judge you accordingly."

"I'm going to pick him up at the airport and make him dinner." Harry is absolutely silent, so Nick sighs and adds, "And then I'm going to sprinkle rose petals on the bed and make sweet and tender love to him."

"Better."

"Uh huh. Look, can you make sure he has to take a car home and also that I will be _in_ said car?"

"Yes! Oh, Grimmy, he'll be really surprised. He's been miserable without you."

"Has he?"

Louis tells him he misses him quite often, but it's nice to hear that others are noticing it too. Nick's ego likes to be stroked, and he likes the idea of Louis pining for him. They've been on tour for months, and Nick spent three weeks with them in the States two months back, but it's been rather tougher than he thought it'd be to have Louis gone for any length of time. But the band will be back on November second, and while Nick isn't exactly counting down the days, there are five left.

"I mean, he's trying not to let it show, but he can't help it. He was moping so much yesterday that Niall and Liam baked him pie. And by 'baked him pie' I mean they managed to construct something relatively the same shape and size of a pie that tasted like rocks. Zayn almost chipped a tooth and Louis refused to even try it, but they wrote _Lick Tomlinshaw_ in pink icing and drew a heart around it on the–erm–crust. I have a picture."

"That's okay, you can show me when you get back," says Nick, who has no desire to see his name-smash with Louis in pink icing. "And thank you for allowing me to abuse our friendship in order to receive special treatment."

"Anytime. Don't forget the rose petals. And oh! Massage oils!"

"We have body paints," Nick tells him, sly. "He likes those."

"Too much information, Nicholas."

"I'm just saying. They're flavored. He also likes to be tied up, and also held down. Really he's quite kinky. Possibly some masochistic tendencies? This one time—"

Harry hangs up on him, and Nick clicks his mobile off, grinning. Less than ten minutes later he gets a text from Louis: _My kinks are not up for discussion with our FRIENDS, Grimshaw_

Nick tucks his face into his pillow, smiling.

The boys' flight lands at eleven thirty-five on November second. Nick's stretched out in the back of a terribly luxurious black car, very comfortably. They've been parked in front of the airport for about half an hour, and he can hear as soon as the band makes it outside, because girls are screaming almost unbearably loudly. Nick is careful to tuck himself into the corner in case anyone sees inside. As they get closer, he hears Harry's voice, and then Louis's, and Louis sounds agitated. Then the trunk is opening up behind Nick and the door opens and he's met with the ever-glorious sight of Louis's bum. It takes every ounce of will power he has not to reach out and pinch.

Louis must be waving to fans, or something, because it's another minute before he slowly folds himself inside and closes the door, the smile on his face softening and then disappearing into something utterly exhausted. He's holding his mobile when he glances around the car and back down to the screen, and then does a literal double take when he catches sight of Nick. His phone tumbles out of his hand and he plasters himself back against the closed door like he's afraid Nick's some crazy stalker, and then his face splits into a huge, breathtaking smile and Nick laughs as he's tackled with a lapful of happy boy.

"Oh my fucking God you scared the bloody _shit_ out of me, you bastard," Louis gasps, arms tight around Nick's neck and then his tongue very suddenly in Nick's mouth. It's a hot, thorough kiss, and Nick grins in the wake of it, his own arms nearly crushing Louis to him.

"Welcome home, sweetheart," he murmurs, kissing Louis's jaw.

"You're awful. I'm going to _murder_ Harry. I couldn't figure out why the hell he wouldn't drive me home and he's the _worst_ liar so it's not like he had a good excuse. You're both such shits." He huffs irritably, and then tucks his head into Nick's throat. "I missed you."

Nick chuckles into Louis's neck, breathes him in deeply. It's been _months_.

He doesn't sprinkle rose petals on the bed, but after the first desperate and fast reunion round, the love-making is undeniably sweet and tender, and afterward they throw on sweats and go into the living room to exchange gifts. Nick unwraps a watch that's absolutely fucking gorgeous and makes his mouth water. It probably costs more than a car but Louis has piles and piles of money and Nick is far too vain to try and argue against it. He thanks Louis sincerely and kisses him. Louis rolls his eyes, but looks pleased, and opens a vintage England '66 jersey signed by Paul Gascoigne.

Louis looks like he's going to _cry_ , stuttering thank yous and kissing Nick breathless, staring at it as if it were the baby Jesus or something. But then he looks up at Nick and his eyes narrow. "Look at how fucking smug you are."

"I am not smug!" Nick says defensively, but it's a horrible lie and Louis just laughs at him.

"You _are_. God, you're such a prick. You can't even give a gift without preening."

"It's a good gift! I had to pull every string I _have_ to get that."

Louis looks unbearably fond, and they end up fooling around on the rug, laughing and teasing and God, it's good to have Louis home.

"I missed you," he tells him, braced overtop him, Louis still panting for breath underneath him, eyelids heavy and hair sweat-damp on his forehead. He smiles so soft and sweet and Nick dips his head to kiss him again, mumbling, "Really, really missed you."

Louis wraps his arms around his neck. "Missed you too, babe."

And Nick isn't going to _tell him_ about this, but he's ninety-nine percent sure that even Harry Styles would think this is pretty goddamn magical.

 

 

_"If one of the others was a girl, which would you most like to kiss right now?"_

It's a stupid question that the whole of One Direction has answered probably a thousand times in the course of their young career, and Nick is so busy snickering at the sort of grimace Harry makes that he almost misses the murderous look on Louis's face.

Louis's in the center of a large couch, Liam and Zayn on either side and Niall and Harry on tall stools behind them. Harry has his arms around Liam's neck and is resting his chin on top of his head and Niall is playing with Zayn's hair and Zayn and Louis's arms are linked. Nick watches Louis's entire body tense up, his tooth digging harshly into his bottom lip to keep from arguing with the interviewer, a ridiculous-looking man wearing a black suit and a smarmy smile. Louis opens his mouth to say something and Zayn immediately cuts him off.

"The obvious answer for all of us is Louis, of course," he says, batting his eyelashes at Louis, who seems to deflate a bit. He leans over to kiss Zayn's cheek and the rest of the band doesn't even bother to hide their relief.

"Definitely Louis," says Niall. "Look at those eyes."

"And that bum!" Harry adds, grinning.

Liam grips Louis's chin and squeezes his cheeks so his lips push out weirdly, and all the guys laugh and the interviewer laughs, and if Louis is upset about having to be handled he doesn't show it. The interviewer moves on to safer, post-tour related questions and Louis is a perfect angel for the next fifteen minutes. 

Nick's just turned the TV off the live coverage and is thinking about actually starting dinner when his phone rings. He smiles fondly and answers. "Harry."

"Nick," says Harry. In the background, Nick can hear Louis ranting. _"It's such a stupid sodding question why the_ fuck _do they keep asking it? And why do they feel the need to_ turn us into girls _first?! Like I haven't fucking kissed every single fucking one of you on the mouth_ with tongue _just because I wanted to and you all still had fucking_ penises _when I did it!"_

And then Liam's voice, all _"I know, Lou, they're just jerks sometimes. They don't understand. Don't let it get to you."_ and Nick winces, because that's only going to make Louis angrier. On cue, Louis's voice reaches pitches heretofore unheard by man and Nick imagines rather a lot of flailing hands and emphatic finger pointing.

It fades—Harry must walk away—and Nick hums thoughtfully. "He is dainty and soft-spoken and you only wish you had his serenity."

Harry laughs, but he sounds a little agitated too. "He's a little tired of being asked about girls. And of the implication that we're perfectly allowed to fantasize about being in love with each other, but conditionally. If Zayn hadn't stepped in he'd have exploded all over that guy."

"It would've been fun to watch, at least."

"You're awful. Mocking our pain."

"I would never mock your pain!" Nick argues, and then yawns, which is totally coincidental but fitting nonetheless.

"Uh-huh. Anyway, Zayn has a date and Liam and Niall are taking Lou to get well and truly pissed."

"So you'll be here in a few, then?"

"You know me so well! I'll bring dessert."

After they hang up, Nick sighs and stands, forcing himself into the kitchen to make something edible for he and Harry. They've been working through a collection of Swedish films over the last few weeks since the boys returned from the final leg of their tour. Louis hates them with a fiery passion, and Nick enjoys the fact that even though they've been together nearly a year, Louis still has to fight against that tiny bit of jealousy that roots from Nick and Harry's friendship.

"You're awful," Harry says, again, when Nick tells him that. He's happily fed and slouched down on Nick's sofa with a glass of wine, but he gives Nick a pointed glare.

"It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside," Nick sighs. Harry throws a chocolate at him.

 

 

Louis is _drunk_ when he gets home. Nick's been in bed for almost an hour, and he's really only vaguely aware of the clattering in the bathroom, the sound of running water. He doesn't wake up properly until Louis stumbles into bed and the scent of minty toothpaste doesn't quite suppress the vodka on his breath. He's rumpled, hair a mess, and still trying to struggle out of his trousers. Nick turns onto his back, snickering.

"Have a good time, love?"

"I think so," Louis answers, making a frustrated sound in his throat when a belt loop gets stuck on one of his toes. Nick doesn't offer to help, just watches Louis struggle until he's kicked the trousers to the floor. Only once he's stripped down to his briefs does Nick reach for him, pulling him down for a quick kiss. Louis wets his lips, offers a small, genuine smile, and then drops like a rock onto Nick's chest, knocking the wind out of him.

"Hazza's asleep on the _floor_ ," Louis says. He's a handsy drunk, his fingers already curling into Nick's boxers. "I tried to move him onto the couch but he just smacked me in the face, so he can just _stay there_ and ruin his back forever."

Nick doesn't bother to point out that he knows Louis well enough by now to know that he didn't leave Harry on the floor and that Nick is going to walk into the living room tomorrow to find him tucked sweetly under a pile of blankets on the couch, his clothes folded neatly on the coffee table. Instead he pulls Louis's hand out of his pants—because honestly, he has to be to work in a few hours—and rubs his back.

"Nick?"

"Mm?"

"I'm _pissed_."

Nick laughs and kisses the top of his head. "I couldn't tell."

"I hate those stupid 'if you were a girl' questions."

"I know."

"They're _stupid_. 'If you weren't an ignorant cunt, would you be asking this fucking question?' No. No you wouldn't."

Nick squeezes him lovingly. "Go to sleep, darling."

 

Two days later, Louis is doing a handstand in the middle of Harry's living room, Toms-shod feet kicking in the air and his red t-shirt bunching up under his arms. Harry pokes him in the side—excellent form, really, directly into the spot Louis's most ticklish—and he folds like a house of cards with an indignant squawk, nearly bent in half for a moment before he lands in a pile. Nick sips delicately at his wine.

"Does it bother you?" asks Greg next to him.

"Not really," says Nick. "He's very limber. I encourage him whenever I can, to be honest."

"Not his acrobatics," says Greg, waving a lazy hand toward Louis, who is drunk and finding himself absolutely hysterical. Harry is pissed, also, and they wrestle around on the floor amid catcalls from the other partygoers. Nick is reaching a warm, buzzed state himself, feeling perfectly content in his seat on the sofa, music pounding in his ears from Harry's ludicrous sound system. He looks around at Greg without lifting his head off the back cushion.

"What?"

"Does it bother you," Greg says again. "That interview the other night. You know. That he's still in the closet."

Nick hums thoughtfully.

He knew from the beginning, and not only due to the whole Twitter debacle, that Louis was afraid of going public. He knew what he was getting into when he got into it. Louis doesn't exactly march down the streets proclaiming his straightness, but the Larry Stylinson stuff certainly affected him, and the way the label talks down to him about his sexuality certainly affects him, and the idea of putting his lads' careers at stake, as well as his own, terrifies him. Nick's a confident guy, always has been, and even when people were shitty to him as a kid and later as an adult, it just made him all the more determined to stay true to himself. He is who he is and if people can't accept that then fuck them.

But Louis takes things to heart, particularly when people really _mean_ whatever crap they're spouting at him, and Louis being sad means a hell of a lot of _work_ for Nick. And besides, the band's fanbase is mostly teenage girls who would like to marry them; it would most likely be an unwise business decision, and Nick can understand that. It's Louis's choice what he does. Nick hasn't asked.

"Not really," he answers. "I mean, it hasn't got in the way of us spending time with each other. We go out as much as any other couple."

When _that_ first became a trend, all of Twitter and Tumblr related to One Direction had suffered a bit of an explosion. Speculation from Louis stealing Nick in a jealous attempt to make anything belonging to Harry his own as well, to Nick and Louis having a lot of angry sex to a more rational, Out Of Love For Harry They're Trying To Set Aside Their Differences And Get Along was everywhere. It's died down, some, but every once in a while someone will link him to a new picture that's been taken of the two of them together at a restaurant or coffee shop or music shop along with an in depth essay on how the placement of his finger on his wallet means that Louis is pregnant with his love child.

Louis hasn't been asked about it at all, though Harry has, and Harry's got so good at not lying in interviews while still withholding the truth that Nick is very impressed. His exact answer was, "We're all very close and we all love each other."

Greg looks at him fondly, and Nick wants to punch him in the face a bit. "But you can't do the sweet stuff. Hand holding and snogging on sidewalks and things."

"Mate, last night we fought for two hours about Louis hanging his shower loofah thing on the wrong hook."

Greg sniffs dismissively. "But you'd still like to hold his hand in public, wouldn't you?"

"Actually _fought_ ," Nick explains, still in awe himself that it happened. "Like screamed at each other. For two hours. He called me an 'arse-faced cunt' and locked himself in the extra bedroom."

"I mean, it must be frustrating, is all. I think it's really cool that you're able to handle it. Respect," says Greg.

"But then when I was brushing my teeth I saw that he'd moved it back to its proper place and I _felt_ like an arse-faced cunt so I made him eggs with bacon this morning and they were _delicious_." He smiles smugly, and then quirks an eyebrow at Greg. "What was my point again?"

Greg snorts, but keeps his mouth shut, and Nick shrugs and turns back to look at Louis, who's watching them, brow furrowed curiously. Nick makes a face at him and he grins, drunk and unfettered, arches his back up off the floor and wets his lips, eyes heavy-lidded. Nick mouths 'slut' at him, and Louis licks his index finger obscenely.

Later, after they've trudged home and spilled into bed, Louis prods sharply at Nick's side. "I heard you and Greg."

"I'm not surprised, giant bat ears like that." Nick oofs when Louis elbows him.

"It really doesn't bother you?"

"Are you sure we aren't too drunk for this conversation?"

"Quite sure."

Nick turns onto his side to face Louis, rubs his heel up the back of Louis's calf. Louis's eyes are clearer than they were before, and Nick's feeling mostly sober. He shrugs as much as he can with one shoulder trapped against the mattress. "Only bothers me if it bothers you, doll."

"That's so cliché."

Nick grins a bit, and Louis reaches for him, tugs at his shoulders and the back of his neck until he's rolled onto his back and Nick's overtop him, his cheek on Louis's chest. Louis tangles his fingers into Nick's hair and rubs at his scalp and it feels nice. The sound Nick makes borderlines on obscenity.

Louis's quiet for a long time, and a little tense, so Nick mouths at his collar bone and lifts his head to look down at him. Louis blinks, rubs his hands up Nick's sides.

"I think it would bother me if they wanted you to date a girl again," Nick offers honestly. "But beyond that I'm fine."

"Mm," says Louis.

Nick traces his thumb over the arch of Louis's eyebrow. This is probably a pretty huge deal to Louis. It was to Nick, too, when he went public. But Louis has this _infuriating_ belief that he's worth a little less than everyone else in the world, and any thought he's really put toward this has probably had very little to do with what he wants.

"Hey." Nick nudges their noses together, grins when Louis goes cross-eyed. "It's really not a thing. I understand. I occasionally get to mark your neck up to satisfy my possessive impulses and I got to tour with you some and when you're not gallivanting raucously around the world you come home to me. So I'm covered."

Louis smirks up at him. "I also allow you to call me during my raucous galiventures in the middle of the night when you have nightmares."

"Galiventures," says Nick, and bites Louis's cheekbone, flushing. He hasn't quite got over Louis's near-death experience. He has _dreams_ sometimes. Louis is an insufferable prick, but he gets around to being nice eventually whenever Nick calls him up just to hear that he's still breathing. "Really, you can't tell the world anyway, I'm wretchedly ashamed of you."

"Oh God, I'm glad you said something," Louis says, very seriously save for the smile he can't quite keep off his face. "I've been feeling a bit guilty about just _how_ ashamed of you I am, but at least it's mutual."

"It's good we're on the same page."

Nick kisses the bridge of Louis's nose, and then drops back onto his side. Louis kisses his temple. "Very."

He's very nearly asleep forty minutes later, pretty boy wrapped all around him, when Louis murmurs very quietly and right at his ear, "It might bother me a bit."

Nick wants to respond, but Louis covers his mouth with his hand and tucks his face into the pillow next to Nick's head and won't give an inch, so he settles for patting Louis in the middle of the back sleepily in a silent show of support.

 

 

There's someone new at the studio when Nick walks in one Monday morning. He's tall and has a very cut jaw and rather amazing cheekbones and dark hair that kind of cascades over his forehead in a comely fringe. He's got broad shoulders and he's wearing a relatively tight-fitting t-shirt, skinny jeans, Chuck Taylors, a tailored jacket and a red scarf, a pair of black Gucci glasses perched invitingly on his nose. He looks like he just walked out of a Calvin Klein ad. Well, a hipster edition of a Calvin Klein ad, anyway.

Nick is literally dumbstruck. He's halfway into lifting the strap of his bag off his chest to pull it over his head and his mouth might be open. He blinks, and the guys smiles—he has _dimples_ —and offers his hand. "You're Nick Grimshaw."

He's American, says Nick's name funny. " _Hrrn_ ," is the sound Nick manages to make, oddly high-pitched.

The guy's smile just widens impossibly. "I'm Jake. I'm a huge fan, man. It's really good to meet you."

Belatedly, Nick shakes his hand. It's a big hand. And warm. And dry. Nick clears his throat. "I'm. Hi, yes. Thank you, sorry. Not used to new faces around here."

"I'm just waiting for Dev," Jake explains, pushing his hands into his pockets. He has long, long legs. Nick swallows. Jake is still smiling. "I just moved back to London. He's sort of the only person I know here."

On cue, Dev turns the corner into the entrance and nods a greeting, looking tired. He claps Nick on the shoulder companionably. "Oi, Nick! This is Jake."

"We met."

"I'm glad you're here I wanted to introduce you to him. You two would get along really well. He's nursing a broken heart."

"Dev," says Jake, rolling his eyes fondly. He looks at Nick apologetically. "My boyfriend and I split up, but it's been months."

Boyfriend. _Oh_.

"You think we're going to get along because we're both gay?" Nick asks Dev incredulously.

"No!" Dev says, shifty eyed. "Well all right you have that in common, but he also listens to your atrocious music. He's filling in for me while I'm on holiday."

"Wait," Nick says. "I need to document this moment. Both of you together now." He pulls out his mobile, takes a step back, and snaps a picture of the two of them. Dev doesn't ask questions, which is always good, and Jake just kind of grins in a handsomely bewildered way. After, Dev tells Jake he'll meet him at his car, and Jake offers an endearing little wave and heads out.

"I didn't tell him about Louis. I mean he's a really good bloke and I don't think he'd let it slip or anything, but you know, it's your business."

"Thanks," says Nick. "How long are you on holiday for?"

"Two months," Dev sighs dreamily. "Jake's been DJin' since he finished school in California. He's really good. Don't worry. Anyway, I'll catch you later, yeah?"

Nick watches him go, and then makes his way into the studio, As soon as he sits down he sends Harry the picture, and taps in _D's temp replacement_.

It's three hours into the show when he gets a response. _oh shit grimmy you know in school when you learn about greek gods and try to picture one he is what i picture_

And then, a few seconds later: _lous gonna h8 him_

 

 

"Harry said there's a new DJ," Louis says that night. He's off to an interview soon, and his hair looks exceptional and he's wearing a blue shirt that really brings out his eyes. Nick hooks his fingers into his belt loops and tugs him between his legs where he's sitting on the bathroom counter, watching Louis primp.

"Yup. Jake something."

"He showed me the picture."

"He's nice."

"And gay."

"That too."

"And hot like fire."

"Relatively nice-looking, yes."

Louis is frowning. Deeply. If Nick were a better person he wouldn't be enjoying this so much, but he has a bit of a fetish for Louis being jealous, and Louis so clearly _is_ and Nick wants to kiss him, so he does. Louis leans into it brutally, all teeth and tongue, and Nick cups the back of his neck and pulls him in harder.

When it breaks, his mouth feels bruised and wet and Louis's looks it. Nick licks the taste of Louis off his lips and tilts his head, grips Louis's chin, digs his fingers into the hinge of Louis's jaw just to see the way his lips part and his eyelids flutter. Then he grabs both of Louis's hands in his own and draws them up, lays a kiss on the insides of each of his delicate wrists. Louis's sigh is quiet, pleased, and then he leans in and kisses Nick's neck, sweet and tender and Nick isn't even mildly surprised when it goes from light and closed-mouth to suction and heat. Louis's tongue is deft and _hot_ and Nick's pulse is racing. He closes his eyes and breathes.

When Louis finally pulls off, there's a bruise already forming, bright red already darkening to purple, high enough on his neck that he'd have to wear a scarf to cover it. Nick raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "Neanderthal."

"Don't tell him it's me. But let him know you're fucking _taken_ , yeah?"

Nick snickers, inordinately pleased, and smacks a kiss to Louis's forehead. "Of course, love."

 

 

They do one-on-one interviews that night. Nick has it on while he works on the next morning's playlist. He doesn't actually pay much attention until they get to Harry because, well, he has his favorites. Harry is lovely and a bit ridiculous, answers questions that weren't asked as opposed to the ones that were most of the time and still manages to be the most charming thing Nick's ever seen. He's even smiling dopily by the time Harry wanders out of the room.

Louis's up last, and he looks stunning and a bit dangerous. Nick's still only half listening, because he's heard every possible answer to every possible question any interviewer might ever ask a hundred times over, and if he has the television on just because Louis's voice is sort of pleasant, it doesn't mean anything.

He's just slotting a Little Mix song between Rihanna and Britney Spears when they finally get around to Louis's favorite questions, and Nick's attention shifts from his computer against his will when the interviewer asks what he looks for in a girl.

"I've already found what I'm looking for," Louis answers, without even the slightest hesitation, and Nick blinks, eyebrows rising toward his hairline. The interviewer even seems a bit stumped, and then she smiles hugely.

"Have you? That's wonderful!"

"I have, yes. I've been in a relationship for over a year now."

"Oh my, a secret relationship?"

"Secret is a bit harsh," says Louis. Nick's phone is buzzing. He has a text from Harry that just says _oh shit_. "It's been more… quiet, out of respect to both this person and myself. But yes, I'm in a relationship and I'm very happy." The unspoken 'so take your girlfriend questions and shove them up your arse' is very apparent.

"And hearts've just broken all over the world; Louis Tomlinson is off the market," the interviewer says, laughing. Louis just quirks his eyebrows prettily and grins.

He arrives at Nick's quite a bit later than originally planned, and Nick is pretending like he hasn't been waiting for him, tapping idly on his phone. He spent nearly two hours on the phone with Pixie, who felt the need to analyze the entire interview and delight in what a little shit Louis is, and then another half hour on the phone with Harry, who told him that Louis was getting yelled at.

So Louis looks rumpled and tired and a little chagrined. Nick smiles at him. "Did you have a good time, cub?"

Louis kicks his shoes off and walks over to the sofa, slumps down next to Nick. "You watched?"

"I did."

"I shouldn't have said that."

Nick gets an arm around him and tugs him closer. Louis folds over, rearranges himself until his head is on Nick's lap. He's got the TV set on one of the music video channels. Nick turns the volume down and strokes at Louis's hair, rest his mobile on his ribs. "Possibly not."

"You think this is hilarious, don't you?"

"Little bit, yes," Nick agrees.

Louis snorts and smacks at him lazily. "They want to bring a girl in again. I told them no. They said the Larry Stylinson thing is already all over the internet. I still told them no about the girl, and then they told me to be careful. I had to switch cars three times to get here."

Nick hums helpfully, all moral support. It's possible that he tweeted a considerable amount about Larry Stylinson's clandestine relationship in the last two and half hours. Diverting attention is his excuse. Tactics. He'll explain it whenever Louis finds out and throws an apoplectic fit. Really, he's fucking hilarious. Sometimes Louis just doesn't see it and for that Nick pities him.

 

 

Within fifteen minutes of going on air the next morning, Finchy shoots Nick an evil look and tweets a picture of Louis from some pap shot. Someone—Zayn, Nick thinks—has been cropped out of the other side, and instead there is a blue-based human shape outlined in a white dotted line

Nick laughs. "All right then, Matt Fincham," he says into the mic, and explains the picture. "What's this then?"

"I thought we might play a game. Did you catch the One Direction interviews last night?"

"Only the part with Harry," Nick drawls. "Soz. Did something happen?"

Finchy grins. "In fact, it did. Turns out that Louis Tomlinson's been keeping a secret."

"I _love_ secrets," says Nick.

"A secret _relationship_."

"Scandalous! Did he really say that?"

"It's true. So I thought we might have a bit of a game."

"A Breakfast Show game?"

"Yes."

"All right, then. What's your game?"

"My game is called Guess Louis Tomlinson's Secret Girlfriend."

Sometimes, Nick is so proud of Finchy that it _hurts_.

 

 

He gets a text about three and a half hours into the show, after several calls with listeners (some of who claimed to _be_ Louis's secret girlfriend) and one with Harry, who refused to play the Louis game but was nonetheless pleasant to talk to. It says, _i hope you enjoy getting laid never again grimshaw_.

It's not a real threat. Nick could go without sex longer than Louis could, so Nick just grins wickedly and taps out a response during the next song: _louis darling you know this is your mother, right?_

"You fucking prick!" says Louis, ten seconds after Nick's show is done, his voice tinny through the phone. "I was on the phone _apologizing to my mum_ before I realized."

"I am both charming and handsome," says Nick.

"I hate you," says Louis.

"There there now, angel. It's all right."

"Seriously."

"Darling sweetums, light of my life, fire of my loins."

"Hate. You."

"Love you too, my precious crumpet."

Louis hangs up on him, and Nick slips his mobile into his pocket and gathers his things, smiling.

 

 

He goes to lunch with Jake. It's Jake's first day of work and Nick's just being _nice_ , all right? Dev asked him and Jake is fit and it's not really a hardship to hang around with him.

There's a sandwich shop across from the studio, and they settle into a booth. Jake doesn't look entirely awake yet, but he's smiling and so hot it burns even when he's a bit rumpled. Nick unwinds his scarf and Jake whistles, laughing a bit. "Good night?"

Nick frowns and tilts his head curiously. "What?"

"Quite a hickey on your neck," says Jake.

It takes a second for Nick to realize what he's talking about, because hickey is just a stupid word, and then he rolls his eyes, rubbing at the tender bruise on his neck. "Very good night, yeah."

Jake grins and wiggles his eyebrows. The case of his phone has some abstract design that Nick sort of loves, and he's wearing jeans and a black Metallica t-shirt that fits quite tight on him. Nick is still swooning a bit over him, admittedly. They order their lunch, and Jake fidgets with his straw wrapper.

"Nervous?" asks Nick. "I know my big celebrity can be a bit overwhelming…"

"Fuck off," Jake says, laughing. He has a very good laugh. "I'm a little nervous about the show tonight, I guess. I mean it's not like it's a prime spot or anything, but. I don't know. I lost my accent a long time ago, even though I'm from here. I guess I'm just not sure how well I'll be received?"

"Nonsense. You'll be fine. We're all bloody lunatics. Do your show tonight and then stay for a few when I get there in the morning and I'll introduce you properly. We can cement your English roots."

Jake looks relieved and grateful. He's a _feeler_ , Nick can tell; a bit like Harry that way, his emotions too transparent. It's endearing. "Thanks, man, that'd be awesome."

"Mm," says Nick, because, well, yes. He takes a sip of his water and eyes Jake thoughtfully. "So what's your story then? Grew up some with Dev, moved to America when you were…"

"Twelve. I majored in business at Stanford and have another job waiting for me after Dev gets back. Um… my parents are divorced. I have no siblings. I've been into music since conception thanks to my mum. I'm a pretty good drummer. My boyfriend was one of my professors my freshman year of college. We were together for five years and we broke up four months ago, and since both of my parents are back here now and all of _my_ friends really were mostly _his_ friends, I had nothing keeping me in the States. So."

"So," says Nick, charmed. "Bad breakup?"

Jake grimaces. "Horrible, but not in the way you might think. We're still. I mean. I still love him. A lot. He wants kids, and I'm not like. I don't, really."

"Ah."

"I mean, I like kids fine, but I've never, like. It's never something that I felt has been missing from my life? It sounds awful to say you don't want kids, I know."

"No, it doesn't," Nick says. "It's fine. Not everyone does, mate. Irreconcilable differences suck though. I'll buy you a drink sometime, you can drown your sorrows and cry your woes all over me."

Jake grins, and the tightness that was at the corner of his eyes eases a little. Nick has spent so much of his life putting his foot directly into his mouth that he doesn't feel guilty about it much anymore.

"I spilled my woes all over Dev a few weeks ago, but thanks. I'll probably end up taking you up on that offer too." He points at Nick's neck again. "You and your boyfriend that serious?"

Nick grins sharply, snorts. "We're serious, yes, but my boyfriend is just nearly twenty-two. It's not a conversation I have to worry about for a while."

"Cradle robber," says Jake at once.

Nick shrugs. "I like 'em young and still beautiful. Ditch 'em once the wrinkles start to show."

"Like in the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills," Jake says, nodding knowledgeably, and Nick is _sold_ , utterly delighted.

"You've just solidified our forever friendship, Jake Peterson."

"Good. I could use some friends," Jake says, smiling his million quid smile

 

 

Emails from Louis are a thing of understated beauty. Nick approaches them as he would a work of abstract art: he doesn't quite understand what it means, but then again he's not sure that there's anything to be understood. Sometimes it is what it is. He keeps his favorites in a separate folder in his googlemail account. It contains gems such as:

_Nicklus_  
In my namesake today. Louisville. Zayn bought me a tiara and rock candy from sweet shop. Tiara is sick. Wearing it now. Niall calls me King Louis and Harry hums fleur de lis. Feel like a prince. Rock candy was gross. Dreamt of your curls. All the best. Xxx  
-Lou 

And

_Nick, on plane not supposed to be using my phone smells oddly like come might be messing with navigation system will see where we end up much love louis_

And also

_bus flat tire. stop motion. Good song name. lyricist extraordinaire, etc. etc. raining like piss. Regards, LWT_

One Direction is in Germany for a week. Nick dealt with Louis being on tour for months on end, so it's not as bad as it could be, but it still feels vaguely wrong and difficult to not have Louis home at night. The email waiting for him when he returns home from a late dinner with his friends has the subject line **found my true calling**. Terribly intrigued, Nick settles into his couch comfortably, feet tucked under Lex's warm sleeping body, and opens it up.

_Nick!_

_So a fan brought Niall a book because the dude illustrated on the cover looks a good bit like him, and I have been reading it. It is about a conniving mercenary who kidnaps a bird from an opposing kingdom. She's the princess, natch. They proceed to have loads of sexual tension, and then loads of actual sex. It's dreadfully written, though, so I tried it out and it turns out I'm fucking phenomenal at writing bodice rippers. I think my pseudonym will be Duck L'Orange, which will incite both curiosity and hunger. Read:_

_In all his many, many, many, many years, infamous rogue mercenary Grim Nickshaw of Big Dicksherham had never seen such irreverent beauty as that of Prince Tom Limsonlou of the kingdom of Roundingbum. The prince had eyes like sapphires and hair like spun silk and very masculine features that spoke of cleverness and great strength. Grim was madly in love with him, most particularly his luscious posterior, within which Grim spent many an hour sheathing his mighty sword._  
"Oh please," cried Tom, "feed the fire of my burning loins! My manhood trembles with desire for your rod of power!"  
"Don't worry, my prince," Grim assured, "My engorged member aches only for your most sacred orifice." 

_Pretty good, right? I could make millions._

_Liam just threw socks at me. The light from my screen is keeping him up. Should probably go back to my own room. Miss you._

_-Louis_

Nick reads it through several times. He is so fantastically in love with Louis in that moment that he might just explode. There's only a one-hour time difference, so he rings.

"Hey babe!" Louis answers. He sounds a bit hyped up. They must've performed tonight.

"Duck L'Orange, huh?"

Louis hums proudly. "It's good, right? I'm fucking hilarious. Did it make you laugh?"

"It's pretty well done, I admit," Nick sniffs.

"I could be so good. I could make so much money."

"Because you haven't already."

"This would be _earned_ , though," says Louis (Nick sighs, because the way Louis thinks about himself sometimes makes Nick want to scream). "I'm a master of the written word, and I had no idea. I've found my calling. And the best part is no one will know that I've based the characters on you and me."

"Your code is uncrackable," Nick agrees.

"I'll send you more later. You get first view of everything. I have all these positions planned out, and a list of euphemisms. It'll be proper smut."

Nick's smiling enough that his face hurts a bit. He closes his computer and stretches out on the sofa, wriggling around until he's comfortable and Lex jumps off, huffing in annoyance. "I'm thrilled," he says dryly. And then, dramatically, "You've not even asked how my day's been."

"How was your day, then, dumpling?"

Nick snorts. "It was wonderful. Just got back from dinner."

"With Dev's temp?" says Louis. He refuses to acknowledge Jake by name.

"He was there, yes, but there were a lot of us. It was a good time."

"Mm," Louis says, and Nick misses him quite a lot.

"How was _your_ night, love?"

"It was great. We did a couple songs on a television show, a kind of German X Factor. We were amazing."

"And so humble. Don't you have an interview at arse early in the morning?"

"It's only midnight. I tried to sleep a bit."

Nick wets his dry lips, lips quirking up into a soft grin. "Need a little help unwinding?"

"You're filthy," says Louis. And then, "Yeah, all right."

Nick laughs a bit, listens to Louis shift around through the phone line. They're horrible at phone sex. It always ends in supremely satisfying orgasms but it generally takes a while to get there through the laughter, insults, and both first and second-hand embarrassment. But if nothing else, they share an intense love of awkward situations, so at least there's that.

"Shit, _ow_ ," says Louis, voice sort of distant.

"All right?"

"I got my arm caught in my fucking jumper. Hold on, my fingers about to snap off."

"You're getting me hot and bothered already," Nick drawls. "You're bringing sexy back."

"Don't be a cunt, Nicholas," Louis says primly. "There, I'm naked now."

"Slut."

"Shut up and get your trousers open, Grimshaw."

And, well, all right then.

He has another email when he wakes up for work the next morning.

 _"Grim knelt between Tom's spread thighs. His mouth was swollen and wet over Tom's turgid length. "We can't!" cried Tom, thrusting his night dragon slayer into the cavern of Grim's throat. "We shouldn't!" He vaulted into ecstasy moments later, crying out, "Oh yes, swallow my_ virile essence _, Oh Grim!"_

_Grim did and then kissed Tom in a very thorough manner until Tom couldn't talk any longer. "Don't worry, my sweet and beautiful and strong and perfect prince. It will be our secret."_

 

 

Naturally, Jake is charming and witty and they have a lot in common. Beyond the fact that he's gorgeous, Nick literally has no further attraction to him, which surprises him. Harry, who all but twirls his hair around his finger and bats his eyelashes whenever Jake is around, seems to think it has to do with how deeply in love with Louis Nick is. Nick's pretty sure it's more that he has a definite type and this hulk of a guy isn't it. He trends more toward smaller, blue-eyed, overly-loud Hell-spawn.

Still, Nick ends up spending quite a lot of time with him outside of work, because he's fun and interesting and Louis and Harry and Liam spend most of their time being paraded around Western Europe participating in interviews. Jake gets along really well with the rest of his friends, and he likes French and Italian films and good music.

Louis puts it off for over a month, but when it finally happens his first meeting with Jake is a comedy of errors. Jake is _beside himself_ , much as he was when he first met Harry, but instead of being annoying like it would be with most anyone, it's utterly charming. Nick, Harry, Liam, Zayn, Pixie, Greg, Aimee, and Henry step back just to watch the two of them, standing in the middle of a London sidewalk, quite in the way, Louis's eyes narrowed and Jake's huge. 

The juxtaposition of the two of them is laughable on its own; Jake is pretty much twice Louis's size on all accounts. Louis is almost looking straight up at him, and when they shake hands, Jake's giant one totally engulfs Louis's small, delicate one. Greg nudges Nick in the side, grinning.

"Hi," Jake says, smiling his super model smile, perfect white teeth glinting in the sun. "It's so nice to meet you, man, really."

Louis appears to be chewing on his tongue, but he manages a nod and then a sharp, almost-friendly smile. "Hey, yeah, you too. I've heard loads about you."

"All good, I hope," says Jake. "I'm not sure you can entirely trust anything Grimmy says."

Nick sees some of the tension leak out of Louis's shoulders and prays for patience, because seriously. Most everyone calls him Grimmy, even Harry ninety percent of the time. Hell, his _parents_ call him Grimmy. Louis alone sticks with Nick or Nicholas almost exclusively. Louis'd have been livid if Jake called him by his first name.

"No, right," Louis laughs. "He's mostly full of shit."

He turns away from Jake, not exactly rude but very near it, and looks at the rest of them, "So, lunch?"

The group of them head off toward one of Harry's favorite Indian restaurants, and Pixie loops her arm through Nick's, smiling sweetly, and falls back with him out of hearing distance of the others. "Your lovely boy is such a pretty shade of green."

"Isn't he?"

"At least Harry's here. He'll be a good buffer. Jake's wonderful. Lou could rip him apart."

"The bad part," says Nick, not sounding guilty at all, "is that I'm oddly proud of that."

Pixie laughs, and Nick kisses the top of her head.

Lunch is _interesting_ , to say the least. Louis is quiet, more quiet than Nick's ever seen him be without pneumonia, and his focus on Jake is absolute. He's studying, cataloguing, something calculating in his eyes.

The next day at work, Nick gets another email.

_"Avast ye heathen!" said Grim, sword in hand, pointed at the villainous scum Peter Jakeson. "Your wiles have no place here!" But he was weak, and wounded, and he fell to his knees._

_But then, in a flash, Prince Tom arrived, and beheaded the loathsome traitor. "It's all right now," he said to Grim, standing golden as though a sun god, beautiful and rugged in the fading sunset. "I've saved you."_

 

 

Things have been rough for Louis since the one-on-one interview. He's being hammered with questions from fans and paps and the label in every interview appearance they've made since. He's been an absolute prince about it, all smiles and poking fun and vague but endearing answers, but it's started wearing on him. It's a little startling for Nick to realize that he knows Louis well enough to be able to read that.

He's in bed when Nick gets home one Thursday morning after work, lying on his stomach with one hand shoved up under the pillow, blankets bundled up around his neck. He's got dark, exhausted circles under his eyes. Nick crawls in next to him. He's supposed to go out and meet his friends for lunch, but a lazy afternoon in bed with his disgruntled other half sounds better.

Louis murmurs sleepily, barely opens his eyes, and then shoves Nick over onto his back so he can crawl on top of him, knees on either side of Nick's hips, little feet at Nick's calves, head tucked under Nick's chin. Nick grins, kisses the crown of his head and slips his hand up over Louis's bare back.

"Hey," he whispers, and feels Louis touch a kiss to his chest.

"Staying home?"

"Yeah. More likely to get laid that way." Louis pinches the shit out of his side until Nick yelps, and then settles back in against his chest with an innocent smile. Nick rubs at his wounded skin. "Well, it's true."

Louis reaches up to pat him on the cheek. "There, there. Sleep now."

Nick cuddles him in a little tighter and closes his eyes happily.

 

 

A few weeks later, Louis has been given so much shit by the entire bloody world about his supposed secret girlfriend that finding him outside of a foul mood is rare. He's getting burned for keeping something from the fans, and for lying about his obvious relationship with Harry, and for saying anything in the first place, and for lashing out on Twitter when people start to attack his family and friends about all of it. He's handling everything with as much class as a twenty-two year old being suffocated possibly can, and Nick does his best to be with him every step of the way, but it's rough.

In an attempt to cheer him up, Nick hosts a group outing. Louis, still under the pretense of good friend, comes to dinner one rare night off. Harry and Liam are there, of course, as well as Greg and Pixie and Jake. It's the first time Louis and Jake have been around each other since they met. Nick's a little nervous, because Louis's been in bitch mode major for the last few days, but he's perfectly pleasant at first, offering Jake a small but winning smile and shaking his hand and asking after him. 

"So how are you enjoying the overnight slot?" Louis asks Jake. Harry glances at Louis out of the corner or his eye, and Nick's getting a _Danger, Will Robinson_ vibe himself, but Louis's expression is serene. He looks sincerely interested.

"Oh, it's a lot of fun," Jake grins, pushing his hair back off his face. It falls back over his forehead very attractively. "I'm actually really going to miss it."

"Nick said you have another job lined up once Dev is back?"

"I do. I start the beginning of January. The whole DJ thing is like, my one true passion, I guess, but my MBA is in management. I'm going to be a client manager at an advertising firm."

"Sweet Jake here has a _real_ job," Nick laments, as though disappointed. Someone's foot knocks his leg under the table, and he quirks an eyebrow at Louis, who does his best to look innocent.

"I figure there's enough of you without them around here, I might as well make an honest living," Jake says, patting Nick patronizingly on the head.

"Besides, you've got that big Stanford degree," Pixie says sagely, "You may as well use it."

"What's an MBA?" Louis asks, idly stirring his rum and Coke and generally trying to look as unaffected as possible. "Something with business school, right?"

"Yeah, it stands for masters of business administration. It's a graduate school degree," Jake answers, smiling at Louis. "I don't suppose you've had much time for trudging through school, but what would you have wanted to do had the band not happened?"

Nick and Harry share a look. Louis is already jealous of Jake. Nick's done nothing but encourage it, because he's relatively certain that Louis is secure enough in their relationship that it's not _really_ affecting him much, but this conversation is skirting close to the danger zone.

Louis's got a pretty firm grasp on his own insecurities and can usually rationalize himself back out of them, or at least listen when Nick or Harry or anyone else whose ever met him tells him how amazing he is, but when it comes to education, it always gets the better of him. He's sharp as hell and intensely creative, but book smarts have never really been his thing, and Jake is pretty much a certified genius. Member of Mensa. Valedictorian of his graduating class at Stanford. The fact that he could sell glasses to a blind man and looks like a Greek god are only bonuses.

"I was gong to teach. Or try to, anyway. I'm good with kids." He nudges Harry with his elbow, then slings an arm around him and smacks a kiss to his cheek. "Hazza was going to be a great big lawyer, weren't you? He's the brains of our outfit."

"Thanks, boo," says Harry, grinning goofily.

"Not that that's saying much," Nick offers, grinning wickedly. Louis and Harry flip him off in perfect sync, and the others laugh.

"It's a good thing they're so pretty then, isn't it?" Jack teases.

Nick's pretty sure he's not imagining the way Louis's eyes flash like actual lightning, and Harry visibly winces. It's a joke. Everyone knows it's a joke, but Louis's not currently in a state of mind to take that sort of joke from this particular one of Nick's friends.

"Yes, well, not all of us are lucky enough to fuck the professor, are we?" Louis says lightly, _smiling_. Nick closes his eyes.

It goes downhill from there as Louis proceeds to _lose his goddamned mind_.

Jake is nice, is the thing. Back when Louis was a prick to Nick, Nick was a prick right back; it's part of what makes their relationship what it is. But Jake is genuinely a really nice guy, and Louis has spoken to him for a total of three minutes ever and is being _ridiculous_ , making snide comments at every possible chance and tossing insults that can't be construed as anything other than personal like confetti. It's really not like Louis at all, and Nick is legitimately fucking angry by the end of the night. 

Jake's mostly stopped talking, afraid of incurring Louis's wrath, and even Harry is looking at Louis like he's disappointed in him, which just makes all of Louis's defense mechanisms swing into full force.

When Louis brings up the breakup with Jake's ex-boyfriend—who Nick has shared very little information about, as it's not any of his business—Jake goes pale, and Nick is _livid_.

"I, uh. I think I'm just going to head out," says Jake, very subdued. Harry grips his shoulder comfortingly, apologetically, and that just makes Louis even worse.

"Oh, please, no," Louis drawls in a voice he probably picked up from Satan himself. "You've been such an absolute _treasure_ tonight."

"I'll walk you out," says Nick, and Louis's mouth presses together in a straight line. Jake looks relieved as hell, though, and Nick waits for him to gather his stuff and walks him out to his car. It's freezing outside, a month before Christmas. Nick shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "'m sorry about Lou. He's not usually like that."

Jake frowns. "That kind of makes it worse, doesn't it? If he was just a diva pop star it wouldn't seem so directed at me."

Nick really doesn't want him to think badly of Louis, but he's going to have trouble justifying anything Louis said tonight without the truth. Even _with_ the truth it would be tough. Nick's trying to come up with something, when suddenly Jake's fingers are curling into his jacket and he's being pulled forward and his chin's being titled up and Jake is kissing him. It's soft and warm and his lips are too full and his body is too big against Nick's. It takes him a second to recover from the shock to pull away, and Jake is looking sheepish and so fucking hopeful and Nick feels like an arse.

"I—"

"I know you said you have a boyfriend," Jake says in a rush. "But I haven't met him and we've spent almost every day together and I mean, I really like you and you looked so good and you walked me to my car and I really...just. I wanted to kiss you."

Nick tilts his head. His lips are wet now, the wind brutal on them. He tucks them into his mouth for a moment and tries to think of what the hell to say. "I'm. Jake, man, I mean. I'm very flattered—" And Jake's face just drops. "But I really do have a boyfriend. And I'm rather gone for him, really."

"Right," says Jake, smiling weakly and looking like he'd like to be anywhere else. "I had to give it a shot, right?"

Nick doesn't know what to say. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. No, I mean. I shouldn't've. _I'm_ sorry. That was. I really don't do things like that often."

Nick feels pretty dreadful. "Are you. Are you all right?"

Jake laughs a little, nods. "It's just a crush, Nick. I'll be fine. I just hope I haven't like, messed stuff up between us. You're a really good friend."

"'Course not. We're fine."

Jake smiles, sincerely, and Nick watches him drive off a few minutes later. When he gets back inside, Louis's seat is empty and the others are very clearly gossiping, because they shut up as soon as Nick walks back in.

"He take off?"

"As soon as he saw Jake kiss you," says Pixie.

"Fuck."

Harry pats him on the arm, and Liam offers a small earnest smile. "I think he knew you weren't exactly into it. He's just…"

"Oh no," Nick says firmly. "He gets no slack tonight. He was _awful_."

"He was jealous," says Greg, smiling fondly, like Louis is the most adorable thing in the world. "If he was bigger than a baby kitten he'd have started a brawl. Bless."

Nick rubs at his eyes tiredly. "I'm going to go start a fight that I assume, on a scale of one to Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, will be a Kyle and Camille."

Greg meows and hisses aggressively. Pixie grins more sympathetically, folding her hands under her chin. Her drink is bright blue and Nick is seeing red. He hasn't been this angry in a really long time.

He gives hugs all around, kisses Harry's cheek when Harry murmurs a 'good luck' in his ear, and makes his way home. He tries to calm down in the car, but this was the single most unattractive thing Louis's ever done, and this isn't how jealousy usually works with him. Louis was more of a jerk to Jake than he _ever_ was to Nick, even right after Harry moved out of their shared flat. And Jake is a friend and he didn't deserve to be treated like that and Nick isn't going to let it go.

By the time he gets to the flat that Louis keeps in name only, because he's positive Louis wouldn't go to his house even though he hasn't stayed at his own flat in months, Nick has several rants screaming through his head. He has a key, and he lets himself in, finds Louis curled up in one corner of the sofa flipping through a goddamn _magazine_. Louis looks up, feigning disinterest, and Nick snaps.

"What the _fuck_ was that?"

Louis lifts one perfect eyebrow. "What was what?"

"Louis, I swear to _God_ —"

"Aren't you supposed to be out snogging in the car park with your new boyfriend?"

"Don't even try it. You know me better than that. I know you know me better than that. Even if you knew he had a thing for me, there's no fucking excuse for how you acted tonight."

"Jesus, Nick, you sound an awful lot like an angry father."

"And you're acting an awful lot like a spiteful fucking teenager, darling."

Louis's nostrils flare, which is at least something, and he sets his magazine aside, dropping his feet to the floor and leaning his elbows on his knees. "I was just making conversation."

"You were being a twat. You were being a _mean_ twat, and you're not that guy. I've never been so fucking embarrassed by humanity, man, and I watch _Here Comes Honey Boo Boo_ religiously."

"If I'm so fucking embarrassing then why'd you invite me to come to this little pow wow of yours, anyway?" Louis yells. Thank God, Nick's been wanting to yell for _hours_.

"I wanted to see you! I wanted to spend time with you! I had no idea you were going to _attack_ innocent bystanders like that! Jesus, do you even remember the kind of shit you said to him? He couldn't get a word in."

"If he's not up to the banter then—"

"Stop!" Nick shouts. Louis stands up, crosses his arms moodily over his chest. He's got so wildly out of character over the last four hours that Nick doesn't even know how to handle this. "Don't you fucking dare blame this on _anyone_ but you. That's not how you treat people, Lou, and if you're somehow confused about that we need to have a long fucking talk."

"So end it, then! This is who I am. If you don't like it you can toddle off with your new boyfriend and your new life and you can… you can fucking…"

Nick frowns. He has a lot of yelling he still wants to do, but Louis looks panicked now, and that's more than a little unexpected. Nick's so fucking in love with him that he couldn't break things off if he _tried_ , and Louis looks like he's about to either explode or fall to pieces on the carpet.

"You've been perfectly pleasant to all of my friends. Even the ones you can't stand. It's just this one? Because of how he looks? You really have so little faith in me?"

"It has nothing to do with you!" Louis bites his lip like he's said too much, and deflates a little, turning away and taking a slow breath. He's calmer when he turns back around. "It's. Fuck, Nick, he's pretty fucking perfect, okay? He's nice and he's charming and he's so hot and he obviously really, really likes you."

"I think you're confused."

"I'm not. I'm. He can give you more than I can. He can… can fucking snog you in a public place and hold your fucking hand and not have to make up extravagant lies about why he's on tour with you."

Louis's not exactly hunched in on himself, but that's mostly down to pride. Nick's still angry, because there really is no excuse for the way Louis treated Jake tonight, but Christ. Louis's probably been agonizing over this shit for weeks. He doesn't say anything, thumbing over his bottom lip, and Louis looks at him for a long time, expression still mostly closed off.

"Well, that last one wouldn't be much of an issue, would it?" Nick says finally. "I mean, he doesn't go on tour."

"Grimshaw."

Nick rakes his fingers through his hair. "You're a fucking idiot. I told you I don't care about any of that. I don't want anyone else. I tried to get rid of you before and it made me more unhappy than anyone has ever been before. You really think any of this was ever about how much you can offer me?"

Louis's chewing on his bottom lip. He's wearing one of Nick's jumpers, practically swimming in it, the sleeves nearly to his fingertips. He makes a soft sound in his throat, looking tired. "Before I left rehearsal tonight I got pulled aside like a _child_ and told that we're being seen together too often. And I just caved. I didn't even try to argue. I just. I hate that I'm so fucking scared, and I hate that it _matters_. I hate that you're okay with me treating you like a dirty little secret. It just fucking sucks."

Nick's not quite sure what to say to that. He walks close enough to take Louis's hand, tugs him in until Louis grudgingly stumbles into him. Louis is _sad_ , and it's almost worse than the pneumonia because at least then the pressure around his lungs had been something physical and fixable. Now it's something Nick can't touch.

So he holds him, cradles the back of his head in his palm and sways him until he laughs, dances him in slow circles around the living room until some of the tension drains out of him and he rests his head on Nick's shoulder, kisses Nick's neck.

"I'll apologize to your friend."

"Jake."

" _Jake_ ," Louis mutters. He's quiet for a while before he says, "Did you let him down easy after he kissed you?"

"He's probably at home crying and broken, honestly," Nick says solemnly.

"I'll ring him, let him know what he's not missing."

Nick digs his knuckles into Louis's sides and Louis giggles helplessly, trying to squirm away. Nick slaps him on his pretty arse. Louis tilts his head. "Make up sex?"

It's a terrible burden, being Louis Tomlinson's boyfriend. "Make up sex."

 

 

Three days later, Nick is in a pub with Greg and Jake and Pixie and Dev. He knows the owner, Miles, and as a joke, when he comes to their table with another round, Miles flips the giant television above the bar onto _The X Factor_ , where One Direction is both performing and being interviewed live. It's mildly upsetting, considering that Miles doesn't even know about Nick and Louis, and Pixie and Greg and Jake and most of the rest of the room find it funny. Nick makes a show of turning the volume up incredibly loud.

The lads look good, dressed to the nines, Louis back in braces for the first time in a long while. They're all sat together on a sofa not quite large enough for them—shocking—and Louis is sitting on the back, legs bracketing Liam. It's already mid-interview. Liam is waxing poetic about the fans and Louis is reaching that bored-and-distracted stage. He and Niall appear to be having a thumb war behind Harry's head.

The interviewer starts in on allowing questions from the audience, and Nick stops paying attention. Greg is smiling sweetly. "I find it _fascinating_ that the whole of London knows how obsessed you are with One Direction, Nick."

Nick throws a chip at him, grins when it bounces off his forehead and lands in his beer. Greg looks at his drink forlornly.

It's almost ten minutes later when Nick hears his name in surround sound, and the noise level of the pub quiets down exponentially. He looks back up at the screen. Niall's mouth is open, and Liam's is pulled into a firm line, and Zayn is glancing between Harry and Louis awkwardly. Harry and Louis are looking at each other, just a quick glance, and a girl from the crowd is up on stage asking her question.

"...seems like he's been hanging around with a new bloke, and I know you're both quite close to him. Does Grimmy have a new beau?"

Nick is going to _throw up_. He's caught somewhere between laughing, impressed at this girls _gall_ , and wanting to sink into the floor. The girl has a picture printed out off of bleeding _Tumblr_ of he and Jake at lunch outside a deli last week. Harry reacts without thought, reaching around Niall to grip Louis's thigh. Louis's expression is utterly blank.

Harry smiles and shrugs, very casual. "Oh, well, that's not really any of our bu—"

"They're not dating," Louis breaks in, _loudly_. Harry looks up at him, and Niall gets a hand around Louis's calf.

"Oh," the girl says. "Okay, I was just—"

"Nick isn't single. At all."

Pixie is clutching at Nick's leg so hard he thinks he can feel the bone grinding. The rest of the band is silent, and the interviewer is silent, and the girl who asked the question looks wide-eyed at how intensely Louis is staring at her.

"O-oh," she says again.

"Fully committed relationship. Has been for just over a year."

And the girl is so quick on the draw it's miraculous. "Isn't that how long you said you'd been in a kind of secret relationship?"

Greg laughs, but it's a kind of shocked, horrified laugh, and Pixie is chanting something next to him but Nick can't hear. Louis finally seems to realize that he's wedged himself firmly between Rock and Hard Place, because he shifts where he's sitting, clears his throat. "Yes."

The interviewer cuts in with a hint of desperation in her voice, but she doesn't take the microphone away from the girl fast enough. "Are you dating Nick Grimshaw?!" the girl asks breathlessly, and even the interviewer can't keep her curiosity in check, every eye in the room on Louis.

"I," he starts. Harry's big hand rubs up his thigh and Louis catches his eye, and then Zayn's, and then Liam's and finally Niall's, and Niall is smiling like the fucking sun. Louis wets his lips, mouth pulling up at the corners, and rubs the back of his neck. "You'll have to define the term 'dating'. It's been over a year so I don't know that we're calling it that anymore. I mean…"

Whatever else he says is drowned out by screams from the crowd and by Harry smiling hugely and tackling Louis off the back of the sofa. It's only after they've both disappeared behind it that Miles mutes the TV and Nick can feel everyone in the fucking pub looking at him, chief among them Jake.

"Ah," Nick tells him, tugging at his curls nervously. "That boyfriend I mentioned."

It's absolutely silent. Nick's phone on the table starts to vibrate incessantly. He's not sure what he's really feeling until he looks around at Pixie, and she's positively beaming at him, so genuinely happy that it's sort of painful to look at, and he thinks, _Oh_.

 

 

"I've been trying to get a hold of him for two hours," is the first thing Nick says to Harry upon arriving home and finding him sitting on his sofa. Harry jumps up and hugs him tightly. Nick hugs him back, grinning a bit.

"He's still being yelled at. The other lads and I were told to leave and Louis's in an 'emergency PR meeting' with the label. Nick, he was fucking _amazing_."

"I saw, I know. Is he okay?"

"He's fine. He's good. He's scared, I mean, but I don't think he had any idea how much it was weighing him down. There were a few arseholes in the crowd but he was so fucking classy."

The door opens again and Louis walks in, hair a mess and a shell-shocked look on his face. "I was in _public_ ," Nick tells him.

"So was I!" Louis says defensively.

Harry laughs, and Nick and Louis move at the same time, meet in the middle of the room. Louis launches himself at Nick as soon as they're close enough and Nick catches him. Harry wraps his long arms around them both. All three of them are smiling hard enough to hurt.

"This is good," says Harry. "I'm so fucking happy for both of you, really. This is, like, potentially world-changing good."

"C'mon, Hazza," Louis says, rolling his eyes as he pulls back from the group hug. "Don't blow it all out of proportion."

Harry has _tears_ in his eyes as he looks at them. Nick shakes his head, grinning like an idiot and Harry takes a deep breath. "I love you guys so much, you know that? This is. You _need_ this. It's great. Fucking fantastic."

Nick looks at Louis, and Louis looks at Nick, and it feels like a _moment_. Nick tangles their fingers together and Louis looks absolutely terrified and utterly determined, eyes wide, smile genuine. This is going to be rough. Nick's realistic enough to know that. He cups Louis's cheek. "You all right?"

Louis nods, rocks up onto his toes and throws his free arm around Nick's neck, his lips at Nick's ear. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm great. I'm sorry… you're going to get like—"

"It did bother me," says Nick, cutting him off. Louis pulls back. Harry's watching them carefully. Nick swallows. "The whole hiding it thing. I didn't think it did. I'd never even really thought about it. I'd rather, like, get to take you out and hold your fucking hand in public and deal with rabid angry people than not. Shut _up_ , Harry."

Harry sniffles loudly, waving a hand at them uselessly. "You _guys_."

Louis laughs, and Nick smiles, and when Harry says, "Kiss him!" Nick does, and it's kind of fucking magical.

 

 

He has several thousand things coming at him at once as soon as he gets to the studio the next morning, and he's admittedly more than a little bit nervous about taking calls, but there's an email from Louis waiting for him when he logs into his googlemail account, and it makes Nick smile so hard his face hurts. He must've written it between the time Nick reluctantly left their bed this morning and now. Nick prints it out and pins it to the bulletin board attached to his desk.

_"We've made it," says Grim, wrapping his arms tightly around Tom, looking out over their kingdom. "It's certainly not a secret anymore."  
Tom adjusts his crown on top of his perfectly royal quiff and smiles for the people. "No. I guess it's not."_

"Good morning, Finchy," Nick says into the microphone a few minutes later. The phone lines are already all lit up.

"Good morning, Grimmy," Finchy answers. "I hear you had quite a night."

"You know, as a matter of fact I _did_ ," says Nick.

"In fact, I do believe you've won Guess Louis Tomlinson's Secret Girlfriend."

"Have I?"

Finchy grins at him, and it's so fucking _sincere_. "The grand prize, mate."

Nick looks down at his desk, at the email, at the crescent-moons Louis's blunt fingernails left in his arm in the wee hours of this morning, and sinks his teeth into his smile. "The grand prize," he repeats. "I reckon I did."

 

**THE END**


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